38. SADIA’S LIST

SADIA moved slowly around the new apartment she and Chol had moved into; she was wearing a patterned baati—a long, loose dress—and a knit cap.

“I’m five months pregnant,” she said, smiling. “I was shocked—but happy. At first, I wanted a girl, somebody to dress up with. But I’m happy it’s a boy.”

Did she remember saying, at 15, she would have one child, a boy?

“No!” she said, laughing.

Since the start of her pregnancy, she has had stomach pain; she can hardly eat. “I don’t like feeling sick,” she said. “But outside of that, it’s the biggest blessing I ever had. In life, I feel like I had to deal with a lot. I finally have peace.”

Sadia has circled back to Rutger Street, several blocks from her grandmother’s house, though she has no contact with her. Her apartment—near Proctor Park—is on the first floor of a Victorian house painted white with blue trim.

Sadia seemed more focused: She was working at a local greenhouse, spraying and cutting tomatoes. She had no complaints. Her hours are 7:30 a.m. to 4 p.m. But she always stays till 5 p.m., she said.

“You work fast. It’s safe and close by, and it’s exercise.”

She was also taking classes at BOCES, trying to get ready for the math Regents. She was frustrated that she kept failing the practice tests.

But her old dreams have come back: “I feel everything’s ahead,” she said, sitting on a couch with big pillows. “Not the modeling part,” she added, smiling, “because I’m chubby and the shortest person ever. But I still want to write—I write in my notebook all the time.”

And yet, something tugs at her: “I know you’re supposed to work hard all the time for yourself,” she said.

“But some people find their purpose in their kid.”

“I’ll have to work 10 times harder now,” she added, heading into the kitchen past a hamburger and some onions, sitting in a skillet. “I don’t want to talk about the stuff I’m going to do—just do it.”

The apartment was spare, but you could feel Sadia’s flair: There were white candles and anemones in a vase on the glass-covered coffee table. In the master bedroom, a zebra-striped quilt covered a mattress on the floor; a clothing rack was draped with yellow, red, and purple scarves.

“Chol’s excited about the baby, especially since it’s a boy,” Sadia said, peering into the second bedroom, which she will turn into a nursery. Chol was taking time off from school, working as a card dealer at Turning Stone to earn money.

His family was extremely supportive. “His mother loves me to death,” Sadia said, smiling. “She always checks up on me.” Every few days, she brings big containers of food—homemade bread and meat stew soup.

How does Zahara feel about her pregnancy?

“She doesn’t say nothing bad about it,” Sadia said, shortly.

She was hurt by her sisters’ response: “I always feel locked out by them. But I would give them the world.”

It was Sadia’s day off; she was exhausted and wanted to rest. But she felt pressured: She wanted to get the baby’s room ready. She wanted to pass the Regents and start taking classes at MVCC. “I’m so stressed,” she said. “I would just love to go somewhere and cry, but I’ve got to be strong.”

“It’s so hard to succeed in this world,” she added, “though it’s easy for some people.”

Recently, it hit Sadia that she suffered from depression. It started in middle school but got worse after the big fight with her mom. “I still have to deal with it,” she said.

Has she talked to a therapist?

“No, I can’t afford it.”

But she sought help senior year, she added. She went to see her guidance counselor after returning from Lewiston, Maine. “I said, ‘Hey, can I talk to you?’ ”

“I told her everything: ‘My life is falling apart. I’m homeless. I don’t feel safe at home—I feel it’s like mental abuse.’ ”

“She didn’t try to comfort me. She didn’t say, ‘Let me find you a place to stay tonight.’ She just goes, ‘I’m going to call your mom.’ ”

Zahara came to the counselor’s office; the two women spoke as Sadia sat there.

“I know how kids are,” Sadia recalled the counselor saying. Sadia felt her mom and the counselor were discussing all the things she did wrong.

“Honestly, I just blacked out, and went back to class.”

A week later, Sadia finally went home. “The counselor never even called to see how I was.”

Sadia, now 21, glanced toward her baby’s room. And her spirits lifted.

Smiling, she showed me a list she had made: 30 things to do before the baby’s birth.

It included: Glow in the dark stickers, Lavender, Eat healthy, Save money for my first baby trip, Go back to school, Get my baby pictures, Food stamps, Make a dentist appointment, A video camera and lights, Start a small line of lipsticks and gloss, Prayer I need to start ASAP.

“I’m going to do audio books with my baby,” Sadia said, firmly. “I’m going to read a poem to him every day.”

“I want him to know me. I write to him every single night before I go to sleep.”